


blame it all upon a rush of blood to the head

by MANIAvinyl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, BAMF Pepper Potts, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Panic Attack, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Pepper Potts Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers 4, Post-Infinity War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, anxiety attack, panic disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-23 11:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16617911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MANIAvinyl/pseuds/MANIAvinyl
Summary: Pepper could see it in the way he looked when he thought no one else was watching. She could see it in the way he shook in his sleep, or the way he stood— like his world was still falling down around him. She could see it in the way he looked at her, like there was something in his eyes that didn’t quite recognize her, or himself or anything around them.Tony Stark never really came back from Titan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey man thanks for checking this out. so I haven’t published something on here in months but my brain’s been continuously spitting out fragments of oneshots so I figured I’d stitch them all together, and this was the end product. so hey

Flying was the only time he felt truly free, truly peaceful. The New York City skyline changed beneath him as he flew east, towards the Atlantic. 

He hovered, on the edge of the blackness and the flickering city lights. It was like neurons, he noticed; like a brain. All the lights, in the city of New York, they were a part of a whole, firing connections between people and things and other cities, while the great big black was nothing— or maybe it was everything. It was the unknown, and empty space. And that explains why so much of the surface of earth is black, because there is so much unknown, so many discoveries to be made, so many laws of nature and earth and beyond to be shattered and rebuilt, stronger and better. 

In the air, Tony Stark felt peace. And he should.

Because everything is okay, everything that’s plagued the world for the last half-decade is over. Life has been restored, and the one who started the massacre of half the universe was dead. 

When he landed on the roof, he decided not to come back in tonight. Besides, he knew he couldn’t sleep. He could never sleep these days.

—

Pepper could see it in the way Tony looked when he thought no one else was watching. She could see it in the way he shook in his sleep, or the way he stood— like his world was still falling down around him. She could see it in the way he looked at her, like there was something in his eyes that didn’t quite recognize her, or himself or anything around them.

Tony Stark never really came back from Titan. 

“You’re late,” she told him softly, as he stepped out of his suit. He was always out late. 

“I know,” he murmured.

“Flying?”

“Testing new algorithms,” he answered. “That’s all.” But there was something very broken beneath his voice, and Pepper hated how she couldn’t find a way to bring it up, to talk to him. 

Instead of waiting for her response he moved into the kitchen, and reached for a glass of alcohol. 

“You need to call him,” Pepper said, watching him carefully. 

She meant Peter. 

“I don’t,” he muttered, tilting the glass back, pouring it down his throat. “Can’t do that.”

“Why?” she asked, almost a plea. They had had this conversation before. 

He didn’t answer for a while.

“I’m not ready,” he said, so quiet that she could hardly hear him.

“Well, _he_ is,” she murmured. “He needs you.”

His face was stone cold but she could see his wall crumbling. The fight was gone.

“I know,” Tony said, and he sounded pained. But there was something else beneath his voice, beneath the surface pain, that Pepper couldn’t quite place. 

He downed another glass of whiskey and then moved back outside, to the balcony. It was dark in the city, and no stars were visible. She was afraid he would fly off again, but instead he just stood at the rail.

Moonlight washed over him like a blanket, and that and the city lights sparkles in his eyes, flickering like fire. 

“It’s like a brain,” he said, when Pepper stepped through the sliding glass door. He didn’t turn to face her, he only kept his eyes fixed on the city lights. “It’s like synapses. Connections.”

She stepped beside him, until she could almost feel his breaths. “Yeah?”

“And all that black, it’s just an empty space where connections could exist, but they don’t.”

“Who’s is it?” she asked softly, playing along. 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. God’s, maybe.”

Tony was not okay. Pepper knew that now, knew that for sure. Tony was hanging onto sanity, to clarity, by a thread, and she could see how hard he was trying to hold on, and hold himself together.

“Pepper?” He asked, hardly a whisper.

He didn’t tell her how it hurt with every breath he took, in the caved-in hole in his chest where the doctors, the surgeons, they had tried to patch up the spot where the reactor had been. He didn’t say how his body ached with every step, every movement, or how there always seemed to be a ringing in his ears he couldn’t shake. 

He didn’t tell her about the deep, slicing, coursing anxiety that crawled through his veins, and how it hurt as if it were physical. How he couldn’t breathe right anymore, how his heartbeat was always too quick. 

He didn’t mention the depression, the endless tunnel with no light at the end, wordlessly telling him he has no right to stay on this earth after the pain he’s caused. The lives he’s taken, destroyed, damaged beyond repair. 

But somehow, Pepper knew all of it. He could see it in her eyes, how she knew it all by just a look, just a touch. She was an angel, a guardian sent from heaven, or somewhere like it, to watch over him. He felt like crying but he swallowed back his tears. 

“I know,” Pepper whispered, placing her hand gently on top of his. 

His hands only gripped the rail tighter, and he leaned against it more, as if subconsciously testing its limits. 

After a while he relaxed his tense shoulders, as if in defeat.

Tony swallowed. “Okay. Suppose I call him,” he said, shaky. “What can I say that would make any of this okay?”

“Anything, Tony. God, just say anything.” She paused; there was a deep exhaustion in his eyes. “You don’t have to make it okay. Just call.”

He smiled then, that familiar half-smirk, with tired eyes and hollowed cheeks and everything. She could see it then, that his fight was gone. 

“Alright,” he whispered, sniffling and letting go of the railing, stepping back. “I will.”

—

It was warm inside, a stark contrast to the sharp New York air outside. He breathed deep, feeling the static, tingling pain in his chest settle for a moment. 

He was scared. He hasn’t talked to Peter since the day they all returned, and even then that day was just a blur. Everything was a blur. But he needed to call; Pepper said he needed to.

What if Peter was angry with him? He has every right to be. Tony felt like throwing up. 

He held his phone in his shaking hand, scrolling down through his contacts. 

He doubled over as the pain in his chest increased suddenly. By anxiety or just the aching pains, he didn’t know. Deep breaths hurt, so he resorted to shallow, quick ones until he was starting to feel dizzy. The panic spiraled for a moment until he could pull himself together again. 

It was those kinds of momentary attacks, and their increasing number over these past few weeks, that scared him the most. He was losing control, spiraling out, past his own reach, and it seemed there was nothing he could do. 

He _needed_ to call Peter, he realized with a sinking jolt of fear. He needed to call him because his own time was running out. 

But he couldn’t. 

His heart pounded in his chest, aching, and he locked his phone and threw it on the couch, holding his head in his hands. Air rattled in his lungs with every breath.

—

“Tony? What’s going on?” Pepper called, stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse main floor. The whole room was dark, aside from pale moonlight and city glow. “I— I got an alert, from... from FRIDAY... where are you?”

She circled around to the side of the room with the windows, near the kitchen and the couch and then suddenly stopped in her tracks. 

Tony was standing, in the center of the room in the dark, facing Pepper and the big window with wide, scared eyes. Tears tracked down his cheeks, glinting in the pale light.

“Jesus, Tony,” she whispered, shoulders dropping. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t speak. Not yet. He shut his eyes, inhaling slowly, but it was trembling.

Pepper moved forward until she stood in front of him, gingerly placing her hands on his shoulders. 

“It will get better,” she murmured, pulling him into a hug. It was as if he melted into her, into her touch. “I promise, Tony. Things will get better.”

Tony lifted his chin so it rested on her shoulder, and through blurry eyes he could see the skyline again. 

He was thoroughly convinced that Pepper was not of this world. She was something more, something beautiful. 

“I don’t think it will,” he whispered finally, voice thick. “I think—“ he choked, cutting off. “I think I’m at the end of my rope.”

“Shh,” she hushed. “It’ll be alright.”

“That’s the thing,” he whispered. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped his lips. “I don’t feel alright. I don’t feel like I’m going to be here much longer.”

“What do you mean, Tony?” She murmured. It didn’t sound like a question.

“Touch my chest.” His hand was trembling as he took hers, directing it under his t-shirt. “Here, where the reactor was.” He dragged her fingers over the jagged, circular concave in his chest. Scattered nicks and scars littered around it.

“What about it?” she asked, even though Tony was sure she knew the answer.

He swallowed, bringing her hand up to his forehead, to just above his ear where a permanent scar sat, from where his helmet had cut through his skin. She knew it represented the physical, but also the emotional scars he bore, from his years and years of torture and paranoia.

“You want to know why I held on, all those years?” he asked, lost in her eyes. 

She nodded.

“Because I felt I still had a purpose.” He breathed slowly a few times, feeling the sharp pain return. 

“Stop talking in riddles, Tony.” But he could hear real fear creep into her voice, however hard she tried to mask it.

“I think I’ve served my purpose, Pep. I was— I think I was only alive because the universe still had a purpose for me. But I think I’ve served that purpose.” His breath caught in his throat. “The universe doesn’t need me anymore. I can feel it.”

Pepper moved back, holding his face in her hands. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and she wiped them with her thumbs. “That sounds like a bad line from a movie,” she whispered. “Take it back.”

He felt like he could live lost in Pepper’s eyes forever. It was a kind of comfort he couldn’t explain. 

“Look at me,” he said softly. “I’ve lived too many lives. I’ve survived when I wasn’t meant to survive.”

“Take it back, Tony,” Pepper whispered. “It will get better.”

“I’m dying,” he sobbed, wiping furiously at the tears that tracked his cheeks. “My body is failing me. Blood poisoning, alcohol poisoning...” he gestured to the empty bottle of jack on the coffee table. He faltered, looking back up at her. He hated the look in her eyes, the fear and confusion slowly turning to acceptance. It seemed a part of him didn’t want her to accept it. “Neurological damage...” he whispered, pointing to his forehead. “Stress, anxiety, depression, _fear_ , guilt—“

“You don’t have to feel that anymore,” Pepper told him softly. “All that stuff in your head, it doesn’t have to be there anymore. Everything’s okay.”

“But it is,” he whispered. “It’ll always be there.”

“We can work on it,” Pepper said, but it sounded more like a plea than a reassurance. “You’ll be okay.”

“It hurts to breathe,” he whispered. “The— the attacks, they hurt.”

“We’ll see a doctor,” Pepper murmured. 

“It’s too much,” he wheezed. He felt weak suddenly, like his body was starting to cave. “Pep— Pepper—“ he choked, as he fell forward. She caught him, and stood him back up.

His face was pale and sweaty, and his eyes looked dull. 

“You need to sleep,” Pepper told him, blind fear still seeping into her voice. “That’s all, baby. Just sleep.”

—

Pepper hated leaving Tony alone. But it seemed she didn’t have a choice. The company would always take priority, and when meetings arose, or relief funds needed managing, she was always the one to handle it. 

Besides, usually Tony was able to piece himself back together after a day. 

She watched him in his sleep for a while, how his eyelids fluttered with each breath. He looked peaceful, and it broke her heart. 

She told herself he didn’t mean what he said last night, that he wasn’t thinking, and that the paranoia had gotten to him again. That had to be it, had to be all it was. 

Just as she was about to leave, standing in the elevator with her suitcase, she pulled out her phone. 

It rang once, then twice, and then it picked up. 

“Do you know how early it is?” came Rhodey’s grumpy, familiar voice.

“5:22 in the morning,” she replied. She bit her lip in concern, leaning against the doorway. “How are you? Are you in New York?”

“DC,” he told her. She could hear the frown in his voice. “I’m... alright. I’m holding up.” He paused. “Where’s Tony? How is he?”

“He’s here,” she said. “He’s... well, he’s here.”

“Oh.”

Pepper chewed on her cheek. “Look, I have to head to Los Angeles today. Tony’s home alone.”

Hesitation. “Okay?”

“He needs somebody here.” She hesitated. “You know that.”

Rhodey groaned. “Pepper, I can’t just leave. I have a job, you know.”

“No, no, I know. I know.” She swallowed. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

It was then that Rhodey could tell something was wrong. The fact that Pepper wasn’t willing to leave Tony alone, just for a day, was an alarm signal in itself.

There was a pause on the other line, and then some shuffling around. “Fine,” Rhodey muttered. “I’ll fly up. Only because I’m worried.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, shutting the elevator door. “I am, too.”

—

“Jesus,” Tony muttered, jumping when Rhodey entered the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Rhodey, is what you’re supposed to say,” he said.

“Is knocking, like, below you, or something?”

“Yep.” 

Tony scowled, and poured his coffee. He sighed, then looked over at Rhodey. “Two sugars, or one?”

“Two,” he answered. 

Tony flashed a sly smile. “ _Please_ , is what you’re supposed to say.”

They were sitting at the glass table near the window. Tony was sipping on a glass of jack, and it was then that Rhodey noticed how pale he was. His eyes were rimmed red, but not like he was crying— more like he was cold. His skin looked dull, and he looked tired even when he smiled.

“Are you sick?” Rhodey asked, half hoping he would smile and say yes, and that’s all it was. But he knew luck wasn’t on their side.

Tony just turned his head, stared for a moment with a small, sad smile and those tired, brown eyes, then looked back towards the window. 

“Can we all just pretend that I’m okay?” Tony whispered after a while, not meeting his eyes. Not even looking in his direction. “Just for now.”

Rhodey’s heart dropped, but he nodded anyways.

—

“So why are you here, again?” Tony asked, then popped a french fry into his mouth. “You got an, um, conference meeting, or something?”

“Something like that,” Rhodey answered.

They were sitting in the burger king on the corner of 53rd. It was peaceful, and Tony realized that he didn’t feel pain. The sunlight danced on the linoleum table, like something out of a vintage photo, and he had a sudden appreciation— of life, of beauty, of friends. It was peace.

It was as if the last five years hadn’t happened at all.

“How have you been doing? How’s your mom?” he said. 

“She’s okay,” Rhodey told him, picking up on the lighter note. “She’s up in Rose Garden again. She likes it,” he added. 

Tony smiled, staring down at his drink. “That’s good.”

“Mm,” Rhodey murmured. “How’s Pepper?”

“She’s alright,” he told him. “Seem’s like I’m the troubled one, not her.” 

“Yeah?”

There was a pause. Tony was unsure if he wanted to say any of this out loud; he hadn’t even admitted it to himself. But he caved eventually, because Rhodey was the one person in the world that could see through his wall anyways. It wasn’t worth the energy of holding it up.

“There’ll be days where I’m so sure that I’m dying, I start saying goodbye to her.” Tony looked up, a broken smile on his lips. “Maybe I am dying. I don’t know.”

Rhodey’s eyes were just sad, and it broke Tony’s heart.

But instead of immediate sadness, there was a glimmer of hope. Because that meant Tony had a heart to break; he was alive. And life was beautiful, and unique, and full of love and vulnerability.

It was so real he almost missed it.

“Rhodey, I don’t want to die,” he whimpered, holding his hands up to his face. “God, it’s happening again.”

Sparks of pain lit up in his chest with every shallow breath.

“Hey, hey. Tony, look at me.” His voice was gentle, yet firm, and Tony looked up. 

His back felt hot, pinpricks of heat and pain running up and down his spine. His breaths only grew shallower.

“It’s not real,” Rhodey said quickly. He looked around the restaurant, relieved to find nobody staring— yet. He had to calm Tony down before he made a scene. “Just believe me that it’s not real. Deep breaths.”

“I can’t,” he wheezed, and his hands looked like they were scratching at his heart— or his arc reactor. 

“Yes, you can. Come on, Tones. You can do it.”

Tony let out a sound between a cough and a sob. His elbows were sat on the table, and his fingers pressed below his eyes and covered the rest of his face. He concentrated on breathing deeply, and after a while, he sat back.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling shakily. “I’m okay.”

Rhodey pressed his lips together. “You’ve got to get yourself under control. I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

Tony laughed sharply. “I don’t even know what control feels like anymore.”

“Try to remember,” he responded quietly. “I’m worried about you. _We’re_ worried about you.”

Tony swallowed, moving his drink to the side. “Pepper called you, right?”

Rhodey didn’t respond, and Tony nodded. 

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured. He sighed, sitting up in his seat. 

“Don’t be mad at her,” Rhodey said quietly. “She’s trying to help.”

“I know.” A pause. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing,” he replied honestly. “She sounded scared, and she never sounds scared.”

Shards of guilt stabbed Tony’s heart; Pepper didn’t deserve to feel scared because of him. That wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

It wasn’t fair that the life he’d chosen to lead will kill him in the end. It wasn’t fair that there’s only one person in this world that he’d take a bullet for, but he’s the one behind the trigger. 

It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t even talk to the kid that means more to him than anyone. 

“Let’s go,” he said, voice strained.

“Go where? Back to the tower?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” Tony sighed, but Rhodey could hear the way it wavered. “Not the tower.”

—

Tony knocked gingerly at the familiar door in front of him. It reminded him of better times, of happier times before the war.

Memories of the kid, and his big, bright, beautiful smile. Of ice-cream afternoons and days spent working in the lab. 

He’d told Rhodey to wait this one out— it was something Tony needed to do alone. 

He heard footsteps at the door, and somebody twisting the doorknob. He could feel his heart skip a beat. 

Though it was only 3 in the afternoon, school hadn’t yet started up so he knew Peter would be home.

When the door opened, the only face he saw was May’s.

She stared blankly for a moment, processing who it was. But instead of the warm welcoming he expected, he saw her grow wary. Angry, even.

She stepped out of the doorway, and into the hall, then shut the door. 

“What the hell, Stark?” she muttered. He blinked.

“I— just, look, I—“

“He was gone for five years,” she whispered furiously, glancing over her shoulder. Peter _was_ home. “He was lost, and confused, and you didn’t even bother to show up.”

He wanted to scream, to yell at her and tell her all the shit he’s dealing with, too, how his own mind and own body seem to be failing him, playing tricks on him to the point where he’s not even sure what’s real anymore. He wants to shout at her about the guilt, and fear, that he already feels, and how hard it is for him just to survive. 

But he didn’t. He only stared, accepting the words she fired towards him. He understood her anger; Peter was more important to her than Tony was. Peter was more important than anyone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered finally.

“He asked for you, you know,” she told him, voice gentler now.

Tony felt the lump in his throat grow. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “How— how is he?”

“He’s alive,” she murmured. “That’s what’s important.”

But suddenly he heard a voice, small and high pitched but all too familiar. 

“Aunt May? Who is it?”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat, and he caught May’s tired glance. It was one of acceptance, but he also found forgiveness in her eyes, silently telling him that it’s okay, that he can talk to Peter.

Then, the door swung open.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter croaked, not moving from the doorway. “You’re— you’re here.”

Tony nodded softly, watching Peter carefully. He looked well— he looked like Peter.

Tony half-expected Peter to yell at him, tell him everything that May just told him. But it would hurt a thousand times more, because it would be coming from _him_. 

But nothing happened. Peter continued standing there, staring with wide, brown eyes, up at Tony Stark, as if he couldn’t believe he was really here. A worm of fear planted itself into Tony’s chest.

“You do recognize me, right?” Tony asked, breaking the silence. “You didn’t get amnesia?”

Peter laughed, broken, and Tony could see the tears in his eyes. He shook his head, and surged forward finally, wrapping his arms around his waist. After a moment, Tony hugged back.

He let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. 

“I’m sorry, kid,” he whispered. “For not visiting. I suck, I know.”

“It’s okay,” Peter mumbled, face still buried in Tony’s old sweatshirt. “You’re here now.”

“I am,” Tony murmured. “Here to repent my sins. Ice cream?” He glanced up at May, for approval, and though her look was guarded, she gave a nod. 

—

“So, Peter Parker,” Tony murmured, tilting his ice cream cone so it didn’t drip onto his lap. “What have you been up to?”

Peter looks surprised by the question, and blinks a few times before answering. 

“Tv,” he says. “May and I made cookies.”

That’s it? Tony wants to ask. Instead he nods. “Sounds fun.”

He wants to ask the real questions, the only questions that matter. What was the snap like? Can he remember anything? Everything?

But he plays it safe and asks about the weather, and when school is starting up again, and his friends and what they’re doing. He asks Peter where he wants to travel next, and his favorite restaurants and where they should go for dinner.

It’s one-sentenced answers, a stark contrast to the bubbly stories Tony remembers. It’s troubling.

“Kid?” Tony murmured, looking up. Peter looked subdued, staring out at the busy street. Cars went by “You okay?”

There was a long pause. “I think so.”

Tony swallowed. “You don’t have to be,” he said. “You don’t have to just say you’re okay, if you aren’t. I get it, I promise.”

Peter let out a breath, and Tony could tell how much it was trembling. “It’s too much to remember,” he whispered. “Too much.“

“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “It’s fine. You don’t have to try to remember.”

“No, Mr. Stark. That’s the problem.” He looked up. “I—I need to remember, because that’s my job. The rest of the people— they can forget it ever happened. But... but I’m an avenger; It’s my job, so that we can keep everybody else safe in the future.”

Tony felt a glimmer of hope, and pride that this was the kid he chose. But then came the guilt, and he shut his eyes tight— Peter Parker didn’t deserve that pressure. “Not if it’s killing you,” Tony told him softly. 

“Big words, coming from Tony Stark,” Peter huffed. 

Tony realized he was right. All Tony ever tried to do was protect the people, even when the end cost would likely be his life.

“Yeah, well, you’re _not_ me,” Tony muttered back. “You don’t— you don’t need that. You’re too young for your own brain to kill you.”

Peter only smiled weakly, and Tony knew, heart sinking like a stone, that it was already happening. Peter was already broken.

Tony swallowed back the stone that lodged its way into his throat. 

He could feel his own chest start to cave in, and breathing became harder and harder. But he forced it down, forced the anxiety down until he felt like throwing up, or crying or breaking, splintering off entirely. But now there’s someone else to take care of, this teenage kid who’s seen too much in his short, short life. This teenage kid who needs Tony Stark more than he’d likely want to admit. So Tony shoved it down, focused on forcing the fear away until he was ready to keep talking. All that mattered was Peter’s safety, Peter’s happiness or something close to it.

And that was liberating. Tony had a sudden realization of how little, and unimportant he was in the grand scheme of things. He was nothing. It didn’t matter what happened to him; it only mattered what happened to Peter. It was like a new mission. A new purpose.

“It’s okay, then,” Tony whispered. “We’re just gonna fix it.”


	2. tell the world that I’m falling from the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony can feel it in his head, like claws— no, _talons_ — reaching around behind his eyes, holding him hostage. And he’s trying so hard not to give in. 
> 
> Tony Stark is next in line for a miracle.
> 
> (part 2, as requested)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this is gonna sound weird but RHCP have always reminded me of Iron Man, even before I was a marvel fan. and Dark Necessities is such a perfect Tony Stark song so that’s what the title of this chapter is

The harsh sunlight danced in patches over the rock below Peter’s feet, patterns constantly changing by the leaves above. Water trickled in the background, a steady noise against the silence and rustling trees.

One foot in front of the other.

May had been telling him he needed to get out of the house, get back into the world. She didn’t mention the snap, but he knew it’s what she meant— there was nothing else. So when Tony suggested they head upstate, hike some trails up near Bear Mountain, he agreed.

“Look, the river,” he said, pointing through the trees. Tony looked up, eyes wide and bright. Happy, Peter noticed. It’s an expression he hasn’t seen for a long, long time. He tried not to think about how long it’s been. 

“There she is,” Tony murmured. “Used to go fishing up here, when I was young,” he said. “With J.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Tony was silent for a while. Peter had to strain to hear a quiet, “Yeah. It is.”

—

Peter was shaking. He stared at his hands in concern, balling them into fists and releasing, spikes of fear running down his back as he realized he didn’t have control over them. 

He faltered in his steps, still staring down at his hands. His chest shook too, not like trembles but more like he was vibrating, and it wouldn’t stop. Up ahead, Tony must’ve heard his breath catch because he turned around, pausing in the pathway. 

“We need to take a water break?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised in concern. “We can rest up. No biggie.”

“N-no, I-I think...” he trailed off, leaning against a tree. He breathed in deep a few times, letting the oxygen clear his mind. He focused on the pathway in front of him, then glanced back up at Tony. “I’m okay,” he murmured, taking a few steps forward and shoving his hands in his pockets. “We can go.”

Tony stared for a moment, and then gave a small nod. Peter could almost feel his sad eyes burn into his back as he walked past.

 

—

 

“Sometimes I wonder what I missed,” Peter mumbled. “But I can’t think about that, you know?” He looked up, but didn’t dare look in Tony’s direction. Only on the swirling waters of the river in front of him.

“You didn’t miss much,” Tony murmured, after a while. 

“I missed enough.” He swallowed. “But then I feel bad, ‘cause the people who survived probably suffered more than we did.” He paused. “Didn’t you?”

He heard a shaky breath, but still couldn’t look over. 

“Kid, I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t... I don’t know if I even want to know.” Another shaky inhale. “I’ve just been trying to piece together my own life after... after what we lost. Make sure I’m still breathing, and all that.”

Peter heard a hint of something else in Tony’s voice. It wasn’t fear, but something like it. 

Peter couldn’t find the words to respond. He didn’t even know if there were words to capture this desolate disarray of emotions, tension, and regret that balanced in the air between them. 

So he just nodded, and fixed his eyes back on his hands. 

A piece of him wanted to shout. Because he was angry— he was so angry. This discomfort, this rift that seemed to grow between the two of them over these years, was something so unfair and so out of their control that he couldn’t help but feel some sort of despair. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

There was so much they didn’t know, so much that he knew Tony— at least, the old Tony— would want to discover. So much unknown, so many blank spaces, and so many dots to connect. And that was only the technological side.

It had been weeks, and Peter still found the events hard to believe, even though he lived through them himself. It felt like a dream, like some sort of sick, twisted dream, like part of his subconscious didn’t really believe any of it at all. But still, through all of it, he wasn’t even sure he was out. The sun glittered on the water, and it looked so, so real, yet he was still ready to reach forward to find nothing there. Ready to see his hand pass right through the illusion. 

He knew, deep down, that the world would never really recover from this war. 

He couldn’t bring himself to tell Tony, though. Because he could see how much he wanted to see Peter like he was before. 

“I was such a happy kid, wasn’t I?” Peter whispered. He shifted in his spot on the flat rock. The water still glittered in the sun; constant and unchanging. 

“Don’t do that, Pete,” Tony murmured. “It’s not good for you.”

“I know.”

Silence. 

“But I was, right?”

Tony bit his lip. “Yeah.” He looked up, towards Peter. “You know, it’s not over. The fight.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, and Tony continued. 

“That’s the hardest part of war,” he explained softly. “It’s not the fighting. It’s the aftermath, it’s the damage it does inside, that’s the hardest part.”

—

 

It was late when they got back into Queens, far after dark. Tony breathed in the city, blinking out at the pale yellow lights through the windows of the buildings. For a moment he thought of Steve.

“We’re here,” he announced, clearing his throat and unlocking the doors. They were stopped on the street outside of the Parker’s apartment.

But Peter didn’t move, didn’t open the door and get out, and skip up the steps, like old times. He just sat in the passenger seat, staring unblinkingly out across the dark, damp street. 

“You ready to go?” Tony prompted, but kept his voice low and quiet. 

Peter shook his head slowly, and glancing to his right, at his building. “I don’t like being home,” he murmured. “I love Aunt May— she’s not the problem. It’s just...” he hesitated, as if searching for words. “It’s just, it reminds me of things.”

“What things?”

“Things I don’t need to be reminded of,” he huffed. “Uncle Ben. Ned and Michelle, Academic team.”

Tony frowned. “But—“

“Those are happy things. Yes, I know.” Peter shifted, moving his gaze back onto the blurry street. “I’m just... not happy right now, I guess. That’s why I don’t like it.”

Tony felt his heart sink.

“Can we do anything?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Peter but his lip. “Maybe. I’ll—I’ll be okay, though. For now.” He moved to open the door.

“You sure?”

He nodded, and stepped out of the car.

 

—

 

Her kiss tasted like peace. Like a glimpse, a free sample of the stillness in life Tony so longed for. If he could melt into that feeling and live there forever, he would in a heartbeat. 

But eventually she pulled away.

“I love you,” he breathed, searching her gentle eyes. He felt cold, all of a sudden. “Kiss me again.”

She did, and he felt the peace again. He almost wanted to cry. Instead he turned, back leaned up against the headrest, and leaned his head onto her shoulder.

“You seem stressed,” Pepper murmured.

He shrugged. “Always.”

“Can I help?” She asked, and he heard something different in her voice. He knew where she was going, and stopped her hand before it reached where she had planned. 

“Not today, Pep,” he whispered. Quickly, she nodded, and reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” she told him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She took his face in her hands, and kissed him again. “I love you.”

He felt like crying again. That seemed to be happening more and more often.

He thought about Peter, and how broken he looked and sounded. How the devastation, the aftermath of all of this wasn’t anything like he expected. Peter wasn’t neurologically destroyed; whatever the soul stone did, it didn’t cripple him. The damage was found in subtle things, like the way his eyes darted when something flashed orange, or the way he flinched when someone brought up the snap. 

He thought about how broken he looked himself, how he didn’t even recognize himself in the mirror anymore. How his eyes looked sunken, and dull, how his hair was silver and not the dark brown it used to be.

“It- It’s happening again,” he wheezed, feeling spikes of pain shoot through his chest and up his back. He breathed through his nose, eyes fixed on the dark wall across the room.

“What’s happening again?”

“My things. The panic things.” He inhaled shakily, gripping the sheets until his nails hurt. “God, I can’t do this again.”

“Breathe, Tony,” she murmured, resting her hand over his. “You’re okay. Breathe.”

He tilted his head back, hitting the headrest, and blinked up at the ceiling. His breaths only grew shallower, until he felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. 

He pushed the sheets off of him in jerking motions, and swung his feet over the side of the bed until they touched the cold tile floor. His hands fumbled for something to latch onto.

With one hand, he grabbed the railing by the foot of the bed, and felt the coldness of the metal seep through his skin. He focused on that, and deep breaths despite the sudden fear.

Only then did it start to subside, in waves and waves until most of the panic was gone. 

“Fuck,” he sobbed, wiping at his eyes furiously. 

“It’s okay,” Pepper whispered, gingerly touching his shoulder.

She guided him back. After a while, he melted into her, buried his face in her chest and listened to the rhythm of her breathing until she knew he was asleep. Her hand still buried in his hair, massaging slowly, she rested her head back and shut her eyes.

Usually, Pepper was able to piece Tony Stark together after rough patches, like Sokovia or New York. But this felt different; she was afraid that this time, it really broke him, in ways that she wasn’t sure anybody knew how to fix.

—

She was up before he was, but didn’t want to leave quite yet, so she pulled her computer onto her lap and sat up. 

Tony’s head lay on the pillow next to her, his hand resting on her thigh. He seemed sad, even in his sleep, and a part of her wanted to wake him. But she knew it’s only worse when he’s awake.

She clicked through her email, mainly typing back relief funds responses, until she found one that looked interesting. Nick Fury, yesterday. 

She was curious; SHIELD had dismantled, like many businesses and organizations, after the snap. And those that had shut down had yet to resurface into the world at this point.

Count on Nick Fury to be the first. 

But the email was simple: 

Pepper Potts,  
Call when possible.   
Fury

She sighed, glancing down at Tony by her side. 

—

“Good morning,” Pepper said, still typing at her keyboard. She was in her office now, and Tony stood, leaning against the doorframe, watching her work.

“Morning.” His voice was rough, how it usually was in the morning.

“I got an email,” she told him, shutting off her computer monitor.

He tilted his head, as if interested, yet something in his eyes looked blank.

She cleared her throat, continuing. “Nick Fury.”

“Jesus.” Tony let out a breath. “What does he want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what’s the email say?”

“Nothing. Just to call him.”

“Well, tell him I’m retired.”

“I can’t just—“

“Yeah, you can. I’m gonna be out today, okay? Okay.” He wiped his sleeve under his nose. 

“Tony.”

“I’ve got some new, uh, new algorithms. New repulser combinations. Going for a test run.”

“ _Tony_.”

A pause. “What?”

“You need to talk to them.”

“Talk to who?” He knew exactly who. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Your friends.”

He wanted to laugh at her. “They weren’t my friends. We worked together.”

She looked disappointed. “That’s not true.”

A surge of anger coursed through him, strong enough for him to sway on his feet. They were never his friends. 

Actually, they were more Steve’s friends than Tony’s; none of them could actually care about him. Besides, he wouldn’t know where to find them even if he wanted to. 

And he didn’t want to. 

“Just give Nat a call, at least,” she murmured. “Or Clint. Just leave a message.”

Betrayal.

“Would you just—“

“Don’t talk to me.” He kept his voice low, and dangerous. She blinked.

“No, you—“

“I said don’t _fucking_ talk to me. Not about this,” he snarled.

“You don’t just get to sit there, you know,” she said, standing up. She moved towards him but he backed away. 

A part of him didn’t even trust himself. He didn’t reply.

“You don’t get to just sit there in your misery, pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.” 

“I’m not doing that,” he muttered.

“Yes, you are. You—“

“It’s not my fault that the rest of the world is too _stupid_. It’s not my fault you don’t use your fucking brain,” he snapped. “Look at me. I’m only like this because I’m smart enough to see it.”

“Oh, no. You don’t mean that.”

“Pepper Potts,” he snarled. “Head full of air. Can’t see a fucking thing.”

“You do _not_ get to say that,” she hissed. “Who runs your company? Who keeps this place stable, when you’re like this?” She pushed past him, into the hallway.

“I do,” he shouted, slamming the door and following her down the stairs, towards the open living room. The setting sun was bright and orange, blinding him as he turned the corner. 

“Oh, _you_ do. Right, I forgot. Do you even know your area code?” She leaned against the table. 

“I know enough,” he spat. “More than you. More than anybody. Get out of my way.”

“I’m not standing in your way,” she sighed. “You’re not thinking clearly. Just... just calm down.” 

“I am calm!” Tony roared, slamming his hand into the mahogany table. The sound echoed through the room. 

“Jesus, Tony.”

“I’m not calling anybody,” he snarled. “You call, if you’re so hell-bent on keeping in touch with _old friends_.”

He spun, making his way towards the elevator. He heard her voice but didn’t listen, and felt cold fire simmer through his blood.

—

First he flew east, out into the bay, past lady liberty, until he could see the open Atlantic just over Long Island. He felt a sort of homesickness, but not for a place. For a _time_.

He watched the boats as they left the harbor: cruise ships ready for their voyage east, fishing boats praying for abundant waters, and sailboats hoping for a smooth trip. He remembers weekends on the bay with Jarvis, when he was young. He remembers sunshine on the gentle waves, and loving the sound of the water. 

He hates it now.

South Manhattan reminded him of the fight in New York, and crippling fear of events he doesn’t like to relive. Yet despite all the hardships it gave him, he remembered having his friends through it all. Now, he was just alone.

Then he flew north, towards upstate, so far that he could even see the empty forests at the edge of the city lines. Small cottage houses scattered around, along with spaces for farms and barns and farmhouses. He watched as a tractor, just a little speck below him, moved up and down its field, and he almost felt peace.

But just as he did, he felt memories worm their ways back into his consciousness, and with them stress, and anxiety. Guilt, of what he’s done to this world. It was subtle, not raging panic like it used to be, or that he still occasionally sees. It was the little things, the ones that make his stomach turn, that pile up and pile up until he’s sure he can’t hold any more. 

The thought of Yinsen; _Don’t waste your life_. He felt the stone lodge in his throat again. Nothing was okay.

He didn’t deserve peace. No, he knew he truly deserved this inner war, the one raging behind his eyes.

There were only clouds in the sky today, and no blue. Some dark part of him actually liked the gray. 

He wanted to _hurt_. And that scared him, because all he ever does anymore is hurt. But this was a new feeling, like he could control the pain. Control. God, that’s all he really wanted.

He could crash. He could crash, and bones would break. He could burn himself; the steel on the blasters would be hot enough. Or he could cut himself, on the jagged corners of his suit or the blades in the lab. 

But deep down, he knew he didn’t have the will or energy to do any of that. 

He was angry at Pepper. He was angry at himself. He couldn’t live like this anymore, with a head full of guilt and anger and fear. He was right, and Pepper was wrong— it would never go away. It was a part of him now.

She was so, so wrong about him. She was convinced he could get better. He could see it in her eyes, when she looked at him, with deep sadness, but also hope. But hope was futile, because he knew he would die like this. There was no other ending to his story.

He fell limp in the suit, suddenly drained. 

You can never really stay mad at somebody you love. And he did love her, like a guiding light in the darkest of tunnels. He just lost his mind sometimes, and couldn’t see her light. He hated himself for it.

“FRIDAY, take me home.”

—

She was still in her office when he returned, and he didn’t know what time it was. He knew he’d been out for hours, but he saw surprised when he saw the pale orange of the setting sun through the window.

“Pepper?” he asked, voice hoarse. He hadn’t talked all day.

“Tony.” She didn’t move her gaze from the computer. 

“I’m—“ he trailed off. “Would you just look at me?”

She did, and her eyes were gentle, yet urbane. She was wary, and he could see it.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” she echoed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, hating how shaky it was.

Pepper sighed, and stood up. She moved towards him until they were face to face, then she met his eyes. 

“You have got to pull yourself together,” she murmured, gentle hands resting on his neck, holding his face in front of hers. “Please.”

He swallowed, nodding. 

“You’re lucky I love you, Anthony Stark.”

He felt his heart skip a beat, and a deep in his chest. Because she was right; he was so, so lucky. He was sure he wouldn’t be alive right now if not for Pepper’s love. 

“I know,” he whispered, hardly over a breath. “God, I know.”

—

Pepper laid awake that night, staring up at the ceiling as Tony slept beside her. It wasn’t fair, she though bitterly. He was destroyed, splintered into shards all falling around her like glitter and dust. It wasn’t beautiful broken pieces, the things he’d seen didn’t make him beautiful, but instead made him a dark and deeply flawed human being. 

It seemed like they’d need to move mountains, or change the course of rivers, or pull stars from the sky just for him to pull through. But Pepper Potts is convinced; Tony Stark is next in line for a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> cool thanks for reading. so here’s the deal, I could definitely add onto this and keep rolling with these mini-arcs, so please let me know if that would be cool.


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